


What You Are Meant To Be

by handlewithkara



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: So why did Mon-El change his mind about Kara and helping people? Some of Mon-El's thoughts in 2x06 Changing.





	What You Are Meant To Be

He watches her, lying there, surrounded by friends, after that parasite creature has sucked out her energy. The machines around her and the Martian hum quietly, the worried voices of her friends intermingle and her turns away. He's not one of those friends. It's none of his business after all. What was it to him if a stubborn, haughty, self-righteous Kryptonian couldn't stay out of trouble?

His mind conjures up images of how he had seen her just yesterday, in the bar, gloating, drinking, high fiving him, her laughter filling the room - How that could even be the same girl who now lies nearly lifeless in the DEO? The pace of his walk quickens, his surroundings feeling like a blur even though he isn't using his speed. He doesn't want to think about how, if she got up and got herself killed, the last time they would have talked would have been their fight.

Almost on autopilot Mon-El finds his way to the alien bar, his home away from home, the place where he can be a stranger among strangers and nobody thinks that that is an odd thing to do.

There's a crazed monster raging in the streets, and it's not his problem. It wouldn't have been his problem even when he was back home, so why would it be his problem here?

This is not his home. These are not his people. Keep your head down, wait for rescue. That had been his plan when he woke up on this strange new planet. Just survive. The red ale swirls around in his cup. For the first time it sinks in that there really is no rescue.

How does she even deal with this. That there is no home to go back to? He isn't even sure he likes his home and it still seems like a completely unfathomable thought.

Another mouthful of ale burns its way down his throat. It's a really Kryptonian thing, if you think about it. To just arrive on a new planet and assume that it's your calling to be its protector, to decide who and what is worth protecting and what isn't. He tries really hard not to hear her laugh in his mind, from just yesterday, down in that booth right behind his back. The way her eyes sparkled victoriously. So happy, so _alive._  

*

He isn't quite sure why he's here.

_You can start by standing up. Like the rest of us._

Alex's words echo in his ears. He's not used to this. People looking him in the eye and making demands. He's spend most of his life running away from responsibility and expectations, the insidious, silent sort. Mostly he's used to people offering him something. Their help, their body, their friendship, their gifts. Always with the tacit expectations of future compensation. Maybe. One day. Down the line. But never like this.

And so Mon-El finds himself facing down a rampaging parasite. He's surprised how much it hurts when the monster grabs him by the neck, tossing him around like a small animal. Pain. Chaos. A stranger, clearly more competent than him. Then there is this fleeting moment where he stands, holding a car above his head, with a little girl with an outstretched arm looking up at him, before her mother whisks her away to safety. And then _she_ is there. Strutting down the street, trying to cover up so hard how much danger she is facing.

“You want to change the world, then change is good when you finally become what you were meant to be.”

Her words reverberate through the dark street and Mon-El feels a twinge in his chest. Like even though she's addressing a monster, somehow her words are meant for him.

“Is he?” is the first thing he asks her when it's over and she nods, with a look in her eyes like she's about to cry. Cry for a grotesque creature who was trying to kill her.

Is this what feels good to her? Is this what you do when you know that nobody is coming for you, not now, not ever? You find something that feels good and you build a new life from it?


End file.
